A giant spaceship. In space. A huge mangled steel poot. Like a knife block fucking a robot. Zoomed in slowly through the window, we see a group of aliens, walking through a museum of some sort. Tall scaly big-headed beasts. Huge black eyes. Speaking very calmly, in a scientific manner. The speaker is named Rake-Mar.
"Here you see, we have a sample of what's known as 'Love'". On the single stand in the middle of the white room, he points to a clear glass cylinder, full of what seems to be water. Suspended in the very middle of the 5 inch circumferenced and about one foot long tube is a small red dot.
"Near as we can tell" he says, "This is the human's love in its purest form. We gathered it off the floor of a house, at the same time as when we were gathering a human female specimen that seemed to be the greatest cause and source that we had ever found. We gathered her in the tractor beam, and this was one of the particles that was accidentally plucked along with her in the surrounding ground."
"So the specimen didn't actually have the strain in her?" says one of the other aliens.
"No, that's the strangest part. The cause, the patient zero if you will, rarely carries it themselves. This dot itself was part of a stain left when a male member of the human race had been attempting to enter through the roof of the female's living quarters—for nothing more than a glance, apparently, at this female human patient zero—he fell, struck his cranium on the ground, and bled to death. Apparently his very blood itself had been replaced by this substance."
"That doesn't make any sense," said the questioning alien, named Eeef-FLACK! "If the original patient doesn't carry the strain, how does it come to infect surrounding humans?"
"Near as we can tell," said Rake-Mar, "It's somewhat resemblant to cancer. No actual direct cause. No contagious spreadable genetic strain to speak of. More a confluence of forces. An organized yet random set of occurences happen near the subject, which affects them internally, some how, and they are suddenly afflicted."
The aliens nod confusingly, and look around to each other hoping it might start making sense to one of them.
Rake-Mar continues. "What interesting is that we know the humans have spent the most of their resources studying it as well. As we did, in fact, they came to the same conclusion: It's due only to social standing, pure random chance of who one seems to be surrounded with. It follows a perfectly logical plan—they would find someone in their immediate tribe, couple, and thusly live their lives together or not, there would be constant and identical signs that each situation, each coupling, was highly similar to the other—but they would still engage in no protection. No avoidance procedures. And each pairing would inevitably believe theirs to be unique, even though there was several trillions before it, and with full knowledge that there would be several trillions after it. A sort of cancer of a delusion of uniqueness, is the nearest we can explain it. We're currently studying its applications in chemical warfare."
The group stared quietly at the sample. Then, at a sign, Rake-Mar continued walking on to the next room.
Eeef-FLACK! heard mumbling in the next room where the group had gone, but ignored it. He was still in the room, observing the sample. Walking around it. Seeing it from all angles. It was no more than the tip end of a marker. A large rust red period. He picked up the cylinder. The dot didn't move, since the liquid was filled to absolute capacity. He unscrewed the cap, and sniffed the open top. No smell. He reached his long fingers in to scoop the sample out. Holding it in his hand, he thought he saw it tremble. Like it was afraid. Or shiver. In excitement. He wasn't sure. He placed his hand up to his nose for a closer sniff. He still couldn't smell anything. He removed his hand, and it was gone. It had gone up his nose. He knew it.
*******************
"WARNING! CONTAMINATION! WARNING! CONTAMINATION!"
The screaming was so rusted, the warning system had been so out of use, no one had known it needed any attention. But the screaming in hard geriatric steel made the piercing even more hateful, putting the knife of panic even deeper into Rake-Mar's back when he heard it.
"Where!"
"CONTAINMENT MUSEUM ROOM FFF."
*******************
A white greaming light, on straight blasting mad tunnel, like a full armspan swipe sweep out from him front. The back of his head running down and then up as a waterfall backwards out his cerebellum behind him a spreading out to from a last weave beyondwards. His arms were going to rip themselves cauterized and unbleeding from his very shoulders themselves. His legs would most likely do the same unless he rocketed himself through the ceiling at this very moment. His stomach and torso twist and reverberated to a quartered and drawn pulled apart knotted and mashed back again to whence they were but inside out and running flowing.
The words and bloists and everything in him, screaming and bleating, to what the everything, and This is your freedom.
"Eeef-FLACK!"
This is your freedom
"EEEF-FLACK!!!!!"
This is your freedom.
"Eeef-FLACK!, what have you done?!" It was Rake-Mar, looking rightfully so as if he saw a creature in front him ready to tear its ownself to pieces singlehandedly if it could ever remember how to feel and work his fingertips, which all things considered was an apt analysis of the situation. "What have you taken?!"
This is your freedom.
"FHHHFFFFFFMMMMMMMMMAPPPPPPP! YOU! Youdon'tyoudon'tyoudon'tyoudon't KNOW!"
"What?!"
This is your freedom
"I NEED! I need. I need I need I need. I need to GO. I need to go! God damnit it, it's everywhere!"
This is your freedom.
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!"
This is your freedom.
Eeef-FLACK! was already on his way to the escape hatches. Screaming and giggling.
"Eeef-FLACK!, where are you going?!"
"I'm going!"
"Where?!"
"OUT!"
This is your freedom.
"It's everywhere! I need to find it!"
"Eeef-FLACK!!"
He slammed his shoulder against the pneumatic door. It wouldn't open fast enough for him. Once it did, he dashed to the front of the escape pod and slammed the ignition/takeoff about a half dozen slamming times before the door could even calmly slide itself shut and the pod was off before he even had time to sit down, not that he looked like he was going to be able to do that anytime soon, so he probably didn't mind.
All this was done over the shouts of Rake-Mar, throwing any words to try and stop the maniac, about supplies and cover stories, explanations and reasons to stop. As the take-off was took-off, he watched sadly out the window, as the small white egg grew its distance. He hoped he could still see it as it shrank, but he told himself he was just kidding himself. It was indistinguishable from the stars, now.
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